The Future I See
by Luna the Zekrom
Summary: After burying Darkstalker under the remains of Agate Mountain, Clearsight returns to the Night Kingdom to make sure that the tribe has successfully evacuated. What she sees reminds her of how bright her future with Darstalker had once seemed. Finding one of the dreamvisitors in the queen's abandoned palace, she wonders whether she can use it to see her soulmate again.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hi there, readers! This story will be a trilogy (or threeshot, whatever you want to call it) detailing my interpretation of Clearsight's experiences as she returns to the Night Kingdom after burying Darkstalker… and a little bit of something else at the end. Enjoy! :)**

 **Disclaimers/Warnings:**

 **I do not own** **Wings of Fire** **or any of the characters in this story.**

 **Spoilers for** _ **Legends: Darkstalker**_ **ahead!**

Clearsight had never seen the Night Kingdom so empty before. In the time she had taken to await the collapse of Agate Mountain, the entire tribe had evacuated the city, leaving it completely void of any dragons. Usually she caught at least a glimpse of a tail here, a wing there (even during the day), but it appeared now that each and every NightWing had left in the aftermath of Darkstalker's public display of power.

Listener had done as Clearsight told her, spreading the word that something terrible might happen and that the tribe needed to flee before it was too late. Between Clearsight's reputation as the most powerful seer in hundreds of years and the things they had seen Darkstalker do with their own eyes, it seemed the entire tribe had been convinced of the truth in her words. All of them were gone now. Safe.

She had seen their departure in her visions, but she had still needed to be sure. So she had returned to the City of Night one last time to see with her own eyes that there was no one left to be found if Darkstalker ever returned.

She could see futures of an island far off the mainland, where the tribe was going to take refuge. It was covered in trees, with plenty of prey and the safety of isolation. The futures where IceWings discovered their location and wiped them out were so unlikely, if even possible, that Clearsight couldn't see genocide in their future anymore. With Darkstalker defeated, the ice dragons were safe too.

As if her thoughts of him had drew her subconsciously there, she found herself at Darkstalker's house. She half expected to find Whiteout there, even after the rest of the tribe had gone. She knew that Darkstalker's sister was inherently different, somehow, from everyone else, and that her uniqueness made her vulnerable sometimes. Without Darkstalker or Arctic to take care of her now, would she be all right?

Feeling a pang of guilt at taking Whiteout's brother away from her, Clearsight reminded herself that there was still Thoughtful. Having witnessed their meeting, she knew that the two already understood each other more than anyone else. And Whiteout, however different she was, wasn't as fragile as she seemed.

To her relief, the house was empty. A quick look into Whiteout's room yielded only a few paintings left behind, too cumbersome to carry on the journey. Clearsight turned to go, hesitated, and then went into the room. It seemed wrong to pass over Whiteout's room; it felt too much like overlooking her the way most dragons did, simply because she spoke and thought differently from everyone else.

One unfinished portrait of Foeslayer and Artic lay on an easel in one of the far corners of the room. The blank part of the canvas had been blotched with tears, which seemed to have left a permanent stain.

Lightly touching it with one talon, Clearsight wondered if Whiteout had been working on this painting the day Foeslayer had been taken. She decided not to disturb it, feeling that doing so might disrupt the memories, accidentally damage something in Whiteout's private world of colors and spirits.

Leaving the paintings exactly as they were, Clearsight moved on to what had once been Darstalker's parents' room. Her talons splashed in a freezing cold substance, and the seer looked down and found that it was a puddle of water.

The room was filled with puddles, she realized, dripping from the slowly-melting icicles Arctic had made when he still lived there—when he had still been alive. Gazing out the window in the direction of the palace, Clearsight wondered if his body was still there on the stage, unburied because there was no one left who loved him.

Clearsight shuddered at the thought. She would travel to the queen's palace after she finished here, because as much as it horrified her, she felt as if she had to know the truth. She hadn't been able to save Arctic, had made the decision not to try, and had left him to be a horrific distraction for Darkstalker while she and Fathom figured out a way to defeat him. She owed it to Arctic, she thought, to be the one who cared enough to dispose of his corpse with dignity.

First, though, there was one more room to visit—the one she knew would pain her the most.

Darkstalker's door had been left unlocked. Clearsight could imagine him leaving it ajar in a whirlwind of fury, too angry that Vigilance had betrayed him to care about what his father might find in his room. Clearsight took a deep breath to steady herself, and then pushed open the door gently, as if not to disturb the memories.

It was still as neatly organized as the first time she had been there. The neat rack of scrolls still stood in the corner, and the pots of multicolored ink still sat on the desk. She touched the green one lightly, remembering how amazed she had been when it had sat perfectly still even after Darkstalker had commanded it to rise.

And there, on the shelf, was _Ancient Wars of Pyrrhia._ Clearsight slid it carefully out of the rack, thinking about the day Darkstalker had made his scroll, when she had been so sure that it would make the paths lighter. She unrolled it, scanned its contents, and felt as if that day had been lifetimes ago.

"Bore me to sleep," she whispered, and then smiled sadly as it began to drone in Professor Truthfinder's voice. She sat there for a while, her eyes prickling with unshed tears as she listened to it and remembered.

"Spare me," she whispered at last, and then returned the scroll to its shelf.

Turning around, she saw a familiar-looking blanket on Darkstalker's bed. Taking it and running it gently through her talons, she felt its magic erase the slight coldness in the air. But it couldn't soothe the chill in her numb heart.

Wrapping it around herself, she finally allowed herself to break down and cry for what she had done and what she had lost.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I hope you enjoy the second chapter!**

 **Also, if you have any suggestions/constructive criticism for me, I'd love to hear it. Thank you in advance for helping me improve my writing!**

As she circled the queen's palace, Clearsight peered through the windows and saw that while the halls still glistened with treasure, no dragons had stayed behind to defend them. _They recognize that their lives and safety are more important than what they're leaving behind_ , she realized, relief flooding through her from nose to tail.

Her claws were clean now, but they still felt like they were covered in dirt and blood from burying Arctic. The task of laying the IceWing's body to rest had been slow and horrible, and blue blood had oozed all over her talons as she carried the body away from the stage and carefully lowered it into the hole she had dug near the edge of the city. She hadn't wanted to leave him in the place where he had died, or near the home he had shared with both his lost love and his murderer, but she hadn't known where he would want to be buried. He had never loved any part of the Night Kingdom.

Still, having done what little she could to make up for having failed to save him, her heart felt a little lighter. Not much, but a little.

She paused at what had been Fathom's room and then swooped in through the window. With all the torches extinguished, it seemed dark and lifeless. Fathom wasn't there. Neither was Darkstalker's scroll, which he had presumably taken with him.

Allowing herself one last glimpse into the SeaWing's future, she was relieved to discover happiness along its infinitely branching paths. Indigo was there with him, always supporting Fathom and making him feel loved and valuable, the way he never had in the Night Kingdom, despite Clearsight and Darkstalker's efforts.

 _I'm glad,_ she thought, relieved to see that Fathom had discovered the truth about Indigo and managed to save her. _He deserves to be happy._

There were even some timelines where the two SeaWings had dragonets together. _Ripple. Cowrie. Clearpool._ The female dragonet would be named after her. Feeling touched beyond words, Clearsight smiled for the first time since she had put Darkstalker to sleep. She could see that the three dragonets would be sweet and wonderful and bring joy to their parents—but also lots and lots of mischief.

Closing her mind to those futures, she returned to the task at talon. She would check in on them every once in a while, but the future was theirs now, not Darkstalker's. She didn't have to worry about them getting hurt anymore.

It felt good not to have to worry. It had been so many years since she had allowed herself to be carefree that she had no idea what to do with that freedom.

 _I'll see the world,_ she decided. _I'll find the Lost Continent. I'll do so much with my life that I won't have time to worry._

As she turned to fly out the window and leave the past behind, she noticed a glint of sapphire blue out of the corner of her eye. It was Fathom's dreamvisitor, she realized as she approached to investigate, left on top of his desk—deliberately, as if to say, _I don't need animus magic to be happy_.

If only Darkstalker had respected that idea. Maybe if he'd believed it himself, he wouldn't have become so tyrannical and manipulative.

Clearsight curled her claws around the smooth blue gemstone. The way it twinkled reminded her of the laughter in Darkstalker's eyes before Foeslayer's death had extinguished their spark. It twinkled like the stars had the night she'd met him and the way they had on her fifth hatching night, when Darkstalker had given the dreamvisitors to his two closest friends in all of Pyrrhia.

 _Perhaps I should bring mine with me,_ she thought, feeling sentimentality bubble up within her heart. _If I ever get lonely, I could use it to see Fathom and Indigo—for real again, not just in visions._

Her talons tightened on the dreamvisitor as a thought suddenly occurred to her. _I could—I could even see Darkstalker again._

He was asleep, after all. Regardless of how permanent Fathom's spell was, all it had essentially done to Darstalker was put him to sleep. Dreamvisitors could be used on anyone as long as they weren't awake, and Fathom's spell hadn't been specified to resist their magic. Clearsight could see the threads tentatively unraveling before her eyes. It would work; she could see the possibilities right in front of her.

 _I could talk to him. I could figure out what he was thinking, without having to worry about what he might do with his magic like I would if I woke him up. If I could have as much time as I needed to talk with him, while he's safely powerless… we might even be able to find a way to agree on which timeline to follow._

 _Maybe I could wake him. Maybe we could be together again._

For a moment of fragile hopefulness, she held her breath as she gazed ahead at the futures which lay along those timelines, carefully unraveling the many different outcomes. And then the moment melted away as she realized that a future in which she tried to reason with Darkstalker would only lead to more heartbreak.

She could see how he might convince her to wake him up, and what he might do once she set him free. No matter how much he promised to respect her and recognize which lines not to cross, sooner or later, in almost all the timelines, his reign of terror would continue as if she had never done anything to stop it at all.

It was too dangerous.

She knew now, more than ever, that she had to move on. Darkstalker was part of her past now. He should never be a part of her future again. As much as she loved him, he was bad for her, bad for all of Pyrrhia.

She had given him chance after chance to be happy, even sometimes at her own expense, but his ever-increasing desire for power and revenge had meant he would never be satisfied until he had everything. He did deserve to be happy, she still believed, but not if the cost of that happiness was everyone else's.

 _I'm sorry, my love,_ she thought sadly. _I can never even risk the possibility that I might be convinced to wake you. I have to leave this behind._

She let her talons slide off its cool blue surface with aching finality.

There were still some timelines in which she came back for the dreamvisitor—and there always would be, she knew, as long as she still lived. But as Clearsight began to trace the infinite possible routes she could take across the sea, searching for the one that led to the Lost Continent, she vowed to herself that she would never let them become reality.

Once she had determined which direction to go, she turned away from the dreamvisitor and flew away without looking back.

Even without it, she knew she would see him in her dreams.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thank you all for reading and reviewing. :)**

 **To the guest "InsertNameHere", I'd like to reply to your review here, since I can't do so in a PM. First of all, thank you for all your kind words. Secondly, keep writing! I wasn't a good author** ** _at all_** **when I first started, but with lots of practice, I've managed to develop my style into something I'm satisfied with. If you post the story you were referring to in your review, I'd definitely read it!**

 **Warnings: This chapter contains spoilers for _Talons of Power_ in addition to _Legends: Darkstalker_.**

 **Without further ado, I hope you like the final chapter!**

Deep beneath the remains of Agate Mountain, Darkstalker was dreaming.

Bits and pieces of fragmented memories floated to the surface of his mind, just out of reach of conscious thought. The stab of venomous hatred which had infected the spells he had cast, making them darker and darker; the tiniest hint of regret as his thoughts wandered to Clearsight and Fathom. His sister's laugh. His mother's smile.

Sometimes the dreams were clearer than others, but waking thought was always too far away to grasp. His spell-drugged mind reached out in vain for freedom whenever it sensed the illusion that it was near waking, sooner or later sinking invariably back into slumber. The waking world seemed so close, yet in reality was always so far.

But sleep was not completely meaningless. Darkstalker was a seer, and like any other's, his dreams held the secrets of the future.

He saw glimpses of history as it unfolded unknowingly around him, his sleeping mind always just a step ahead. He saw Whiteout's descendents and Fathom's (a few animi but mostly just ordinary dragons), blissfully unaware of how much different their lives would have been if Darkstalker had ruled Pyrrhia.

His dreams revealed a cunning SeaWing princess who enchanted a statue to eliminate her heirs, but failed to make herself immortal in time to save herself from death at her mother's claws; a prince who gave his little sister a blessing and a curse by bestowing on her a share of their powers; that dragonet wasting her powers at the command of her ignorant mother; and—across the continent—a timid NightWing who turned his own scales to stone to prevent himself from hurting anyone when he no longer trusted himself not to.

All such wastes of potential.

They could have become powerful beyond belief if they'd only opened their minds a bit more, like Darkstalker had. Or if he had been there to guide them. But he was long gone, reduced to a ghost story among the only two tribes who remembered him at all.

Of all his dreams, however, the ones that hurt him the most were of his lost love.

 _Clearsight_ , he thought wistfully, even as his mind was dulled by sleep _._

They weren't as common as the visions of her adventures with dragons of tribes he'd never seen before, but sometimes he saw glimpses of a future in which she might return to him with her dreamvisitor. It wasn't the thought of how she might free him, but the overwhelming sense of missing her that made him cling to that dream (or so he told himself). Yet each time he saw it, that possibility grew fainter, as if each day she was learning to move on a little more.

Eventually, a little over a century after Darkstalker had been buried, he stopped having visions of her at all. She was gone, taking all his hope with her. It was too late to change anything between them now, to tell her that he was sorry and to plead for just one more chance to be the great leader he knew he could become.

In his sleep, deep within the confines of his earthen prison, the enormous black dragon shook with quiet sobs, tears invisible in the pitch-blackness as they slid slowly down his cheeks. Crying for the love he had lost and the empty dreams he would no longer remember when he finally woke.


End file.
